


Virgin Dog

by iskanderthebi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/F, Face Slapping, Fingerfucking, Monsterfucking, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Tentacles, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, reader loves it all i assure you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29106633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iskanderthebi/pseuds/iskanderthebi
Summary: A sliver of mirth passed her face. She said, “I really have been impressed with your service, dear, and I wish to, let’s say, raise your position here. You are no longer to be servant to my daughters, do you hear? You are to be my personal maid only.”Something about the wording, about the ownership they possessed, sent an unexplainable bolt of heat through you.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu/reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 511





	Virgin Dog

**Author's Note:**

> there is no specified gender for the reader, Dimitrescu refers to them with pet names that include girl and kitten but frankly take it as you will

Lady Dimitrescu made no requests. Any desire that passed her mind was an order, and orders had to be obeyed. You were not blind to what was happening in the manor, you knew exactly what her ladyship and her daughters did. The crying in the night, the vanishings, the locked doors that had no keys. You, yourself, were one of the youths kidnapped for the vampire feast and it was only out of the size and demand of the chateau that you were kept behind, as a servant. A glorified maid whose job was to clean the bloodstains and air the rooms.

A thousand thoughts swirled worryingly in your head as you walked up the great oak staircase. Her ladyship asked to see you, and that was no light request. You tried to think of any mistake you could have done that would lead to such a confrontation, and anxiety warped your memories into a dark mess of agonising failures. Perhaps, at least, the time for questioning will end.

In front of her door, you stopped. You fixed your hair, tugged on the material of your dress. It was hard to hide anything from vampires, and you knew your fiddling was a secret to nobody, but if you were to die, then there was no need to be ugly about it.

You knocked thrice on the wooden door.

“Come in.”

Lady Dimitrescu’s voice was unmistakable and sent a shiver down your spine. You pushed the door open, instantly feeling cold air rush against you. Her ladyship never turned on the fire for herself.

But as you walked inside, you saw she was not alone. Her three daughters stood by her, looking both amused and bored, loud insects of a species you couldn’t decipher flurrying around relaxed hands. One put a hand on her waist when she saw you and snickered. Their faces were still mostly unknown to you. They kept to themselves, and their chiefly male victims were made messy work of. You were invited once the games had ended, and they cared not to talk to the help.

Between them, against the pale light of a cloudy evening, sat Dimitrescu herself, cross legged on a tall chair of mahogany. Her hat was off and the fall of the light left her face in darkness but outlined her shoulders and hair, where it curled around the base of her neck. Even sitting, her impressive height was not hidden.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “You called for me, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“I did, pet,” came the smooth reply. “My daughters and I had a nice, long talk and we have all decided that your work has been diligent enough to warrant a conversation.”

As she spoke, her head leaned to the side, allowing a line of sunlight to make a vector down her neck and to the swell of her breasts. She was in one of her most frequented dresses — of a delicate rosy cream material that flowed barely above her ankles, with a low neckline that accentuated her chest. Sometimes, she wore a corset beneath it. You knew because she asked you once to tie it.

Under the leering looks of her daughters, you bowed your head. “I have been doing my best serving here, my lady,” you replied, keeping your voice as steady as you could. “I am honoured that you have spoken of me.”

One of the daughters let out a sharp guffaw. “See!” she cried. “It is just as I said. It’s the blood.”

“Hush now, dears.” Dimitrescu’s voice did not change, but even within its casual velvety timbre was the unmistakable sound of order. “Let’s not tease her.”

The three daughters muttered something and, not looking at one another, paced around you. You wondered if your diligent work made you a more delicious meal.

“Does — do you wish to drink my blood?” you asked weakly. You supposed that was where all the roads were leading to.

The daughters erupted into laughter. The one on your right, still a head taller, leaned in close enough that one of her bugs brushed against the back of your hand.

“Green,” she sneered. “Like all the virgins.”

“Enough.”

All three daughters stepped back.

Dimitrescu raised a hand. “Your place in this has ended. Leave us.”

Your face was hot. Her voice, even though you knew it well enough, seemed to force itself through your rib cage and go deep into your body. Goosebumps made the hairs on your arms stand straight.

The daughters obeyed, without comment, and left the room with a shut of the door.

Dimitrescu smiled. “Now then,” she said. “Come here.”

You came over to her, unsure exactly how near she wanted you, and bowed your head. Up close, her height in the chair was imposing and you found your gaze avoiding her face and instead looking at her mouth, her neck, the way her jewelled necklace fell right into her cleavage.

“Look at me, pet.”

You obeyed. Her eyes were like circlets of the moon. Pale, and which seemed to glow in the dark.

A sliver of mirth passed her face. She said, “I really have been impressed with your service, dear, and I wish to, let’s say, raise your position here. You are no longer to be servant to my daughters, do you hear? You are to be my personal maid only.”

Something about the wording, about the ownership they possessed, sent an unexplainable bolt of heat through you. You gave a nod.

“Yes, my lady.” You felt smaller. “What shall my new duties be?”

“They shall be varied, and asked upon when I desire.” Pale eyes drifted slowly over your body, as if they could see right through skin and meat. “We shall start now.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Undress.”

The breath caught in your throat. Your hands clenched into fists and fumbled against your thighs.

“But — my lady —”

“You should also learn now that I will not be asking twice.” A dark eyebrow arched with a snide air. “Disobedience and stupidity will be punishable.”

You wondered if it was because you were there so long that those words only made your skin burn at the thought. Without a second thought, you began untying your apron.

Time had blurred in the manor. You may have been there for a year already, or less, but the entire time you were left to your own devices. The daughters of the house were untamed and cared not to speak, while the lady was often in her own solitude, found alone in various rooms, touching up her lipstick or drinking out of crystal glasses. She asked you occasionally to join with some type of request, to help with her dress or change something in the room. She was never silent, but the conversations were minimal. Her eyes, however, would never leave you.

As you undid the last button at the base of your spine and began pulling an arm out of a sleeve, you wondered if she knew already how you looked naked. Did she watch you have baths? Did she ever see you dress? Did she wander the halls at night, peek into the keyholes, see you sprawl in your bed with two fingers up your cunt and her name on your lips?

The slip did little to protect you from the cold as you let the heavy black dress pool around your feet. Your nipples stood in stiff peaks, you felt their sensitive ache as the material brushed over them as you brought the slip over your head. You just had your garter belt, thigh highs and panties. All the clothing you wore had been left for you by the lady of the house. Dimitrescu’s eyes watched you hungrily as you began fiddling with your garters.

“Keep the stockings,” she said suddenly.

You did as she ordered, taking off the garter belt and hooking your fingers into your panties. You took them off, one leg at a time, and let them fall. You could not ignore their unmistakable dampness.

Whatever fears were in your head when you were walking up to this room were replaced with something different. Almost savage in manner. You said nothing and Dimitrescu didn’t either. The crossed leg swayed lightly and she leaned her chin on her knuckles, taking you in slowly. There was no embarrassment, your arms hung loosely by your side. Some part of you, one which you had tried to ignore and subdue for several months, had been craving this.

Finally, Dimitrescu spoke. “You really are quite small, aren’t you, pet?” she said amusedly. “It is hard to see in the clothes, but now like this, so bare, you are quite a delectable morsel.”

She stood and the difference in height became stark for you in a way that made your stomach pool with a heavy heat. You did not move as she came close, the thick scent of her perfume overpowering. She stepped around and behind you, a cold hand running itself up your shoulder and settling by your neck. Your body felt electrified and the tiniest of sounds left your mouth as you suddenly felt her nose brush your ear.

“But the clothes couldn’t muffle your scent,” she breathed against your skin. “Virgins smell different. Sweet, almost. Clean and fragrant.” A deep inhale. “I can always smell you. When you work, when you sleep. Always your delicious scent is around me.”

The cold hand slid down, ghosting the underside of your bare breast, rounding the hips.

“I can smell something else from you,” she all but purred in your ear, nudging your legs apart.

You barely had time to gasp as a finger ran itself over your sex, not pushing enough to part your lips, but that was not needed for the evidence of your desires to be noticed. Your toes curled as you watched the hand leave you, skin glistening with your own slick.

“How delightful,” murmured Dimitrescu. And then, “Clean it.”

The difference in height was in proportion with her body and the two fingers you took in your mouth were thick and long. Dimitrescu may not have been looking at you from in front, but you bobbed your head obediently, licking the flat of your tongue up and down the cold finger pads, hollowing your cheeks. Tasting yourself made you ravenous.

Dimitrescu chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“My daughters may enjoy the flesh of man,” she hummed, running her fingernail down the line of your jugular. “But I outgrew that taste long ago. From the first day you came here, I knew I wanted you only for myself.”

The heavy velvet of her voice went straight to your aching cunt. You really could not stop yourself as your thighs came close and rubbed against one another.

“Needy, kitten?”

The fingers left your mouth and, still in her smug composure, Dimitrescue came to stand in front of you. She tutted.

“Legs apart. You are not to touch yourself unless I say, understood?”

“Yes, my lady.”

It was only the knowledge of far more to come that forced your legs apart. It was true you had never lay with anyone before, but it did not mean you were a stranger to self pleasure. You knew Dimitrescu would not need to do much to send you over the edge.

As if hearing your thoughts, and for a moment you weren’t sure if she didn’t, Dimitrescu smiled.

“Undress me,” she said.

You knew the dress well, you had cleaned it before, hung it in her closet. A mixture of small buttons and a tie in the middle held it together and its fit was not tight enough to be a nuisance. To your frustrated lust, you realised you had to stand on your toes to reach the furthest button on Dimitrescu’s back. You could smell her perfume, that seemed too old and out of style, and the heavy musk of the power and lipstick she used. Her skin was cold where your fingers brushed it.

Dimitrescu pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting the bodice drop to her feet. A white chemise complimented with a dark cream corset showed itself. You began untying the corset with automatic fingers. Corsets weren’t exactly still in style, but their pattern was easy enough to remember. Once it was off, you gathered the chemise from the bottom and tugged it over Dimitrescu’s outstretched arms.

The suddenly expanse of pale skin left you swallowing thickly. Your brain was filled with a fog that wanted nothing more than for you to grind your palm into your begging clit. Your eyes could not help but stray to Dimitrescu’s voluptuous breasts, that looked impossibly soft, with nipples the colour of dark cherries. Pale marks ran up its curve, like lightning bolts on skin. The same stretch marks went over her wide hips, covered her stomach. To your shame, you realised you were salivating.

Dimitrescu was also in a garter belt, a deep crimson with panties to match. As you reached over to begin undoing it, your hand was deftly swatted away.

“That’s enough,” said Dimitrescu, turning to you fully. A smile was on her face, eyes boring into you as she slowly ran a hand up her hip, over the soft mound of her stomach and pressing into the soft flesh of her breast. “You are attracted to my body, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Your voice was not your own, so heavy with lust you could barely recognise it. “Yes, Lady Dimitrescu.”

“Then let’s see how you can pleasure it.” She went over to sit back in the mahogany chair, but this time left her legs uncrossed. “On your knees, kitten.”

And all of sudden, all those months of questions and longing and lonely nights led to this.

But she took her time, reached to her side to pour a glass of wine and drank it, slowly, luxuriously. She already knew you wouldn’t defy.

Finally, _finally_ , the glass came down with a faint tinkle and, spreading her legs, Dimitrescu gave you permission.

“Come here.”

Her fingers ran through your hair and guided your face against her cunt. Her panties were silk, and the damp patch in the middle was making you more determined than before to please her. Your nose ran up and down the material, letting the musky scent of her arousal mark your flesh. Pressing kisses against the dampness, you felt the fingers claw themselves, scraping against your skull. You moaned against her and felt Dimitrescu give out a sigh.

“Good girl.”

The words went straight to your cunt. Emboldened, you gently pushed the lingerie to the side and gave a long lick to her labia. The fingers in your hair tightened enough to sting so you did it again, parting the lips with your fingers, letting her taste overwhelm your senses. You changed your angle, kissing and licking in turns, suckling on the clit. You could feel your own slick on your thighs and tried your best to ignore it, especially when Dimitrescu began building a rhythm as she rocked you against her.

Quickly enough, you realised you had very little control in your movements, and when your head jerked back to hurriedly suck in a breath, you saw her only for a moment before she forced your mouth back onto her cunt. But the vision you saw only made your actions more attentive, for you saw the Dimitrescu’s free hand was rubbing and playing with her dark nipple and the only thing you wanted more was to taste the dark nub in your own mouth. She was _enjoying_ it, and you weren’t about to disappoint the lady of the house.

Her slick was all over your chin and cheeks, nose pressing against her clit as you proved your tongue as deep as you could inside her. You had tasted yourself before, licking your fingers in the late nights, but her taste was entirely different. In a vague thought, you even wondered that she tasted like the same dark wines she drank.

You moaned as you sucked on the clit, bigger than your own, nose buried in her fine hairs. The flat of your tongue worked between her folds, until your entire mouth was full of her. She did not ask for your hands, or you didn’t remember it, so you kept them against the floor, tightly fisted. The marks from your nails would be there for several days. You made your tongue and face enough, the entirety of your jaw aching as you pushed your tongue inside her cunt.

Your work was paying off. Dimitrescu was not vocal, but you felt a difference as her hand forced your face closer and it was her own hips that were moving to a less restrained rhythm against your mouth. She was fucking you, second hand scratching your scalp, not giving you more than half a second to catch a broken breath. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasps and moans passing your lips and vibrating against her clit. You would have let her fuck your face forever if she had wanted it.

The orgasm came with a sharp squeeze of her thighs around your head. You couldn’t breathe, mouth working against her, thighs overwhelming you entirely. A sharp ache burned in your neck. Lady Dimitrescu released a long, sated sigh and the hands in your hair pressed you close for an extra moment, allowing you to greedily lap her up, before letting go.

The thighs released you and with a jerk you gasped, trying to clean up your lips with your tongue, chest heaving. Your head was spinning. Your own yet untouched pussy was so sensitive you were sure a single touch was to send you overboard.

“Well done, pet.” A cool hand cupped your chin and raised it, wiping your cheeks with a silk handkerchief. “You did very well for your first time. Very obedient.”

As you looked at her, you wondered if the rational part of you should have again flooded with fear. She was a vampire, demanding and powerful, and clearly received the pleasure she wanted. Was it then time for your blood to become the meal?

You stared at her face, at the deep red of her lipstick, at the heavy weight of her breasts with the dark nipples like teasing candy, at the panties that still sat to the side, showing off her wet, swollen cunt.

“Anything for you, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said instead.

She chuckled. “That’s right, pet,” she crooned. “There is much more to come. But now stand up, come over to the table.”

Your legs, half numb, wobbled as you pushed yourself upwards. The grand wooden table was beside Dimitrescu’s chair and to your surprise, the lady of the house reached out to grab your arm and steady you as you came over. The wood was cold, just like everything else, under your skin as, with the light push of her hand, Dimitrescu made you sit upon the table. The added height saw you almost at eye level and your eyes could not but marvel openly over her body, the curves of her breasts building something carnal inside you.

Dimitrescu let out a hum, bringing her hands to your waist. “What a delicate thing,” she said. “But delightful, too.”

Her palms drew themselves upwards.

“And what lovely little breasts,” she said with a smile. “Such soft, dear pretties.”

Were her teeth always so sharp?

“How delicious,” she continued. “One cannot help but —”

She leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to the underside of your right breast. Your breath hitched as you watched her, seeing the red imprint from the lipstick mark you like a brand. Dimitrescu smiled at her imprint and licked at the flesh with a quick dart of her tongue.

“How sweet you taste, even like this.” She buried her face in your middle, dragging her nose up, deeply breathing in. “Virgins are so rare to find, ones like you. Entirely untouched, so clean and innocent. I haven’t had one like you in a hundred years.”

Her teeth were definitely sharper. Her hands squeezed the mounds of your breasts, not touching your erect nipples, pinching the skin until it became red. You could feel your breathing quicken, the touches so close to what you needed but not enough. You were certain your own juices had slid passed your thighs and were on the table by then.

Suddenly, fangs broke your skin. A cry flew out of your mouth as Dimitrescu began feeding on you, sucking your blood from the top of your breast. Your mind instantly electrified, the feeling of her lips moving against your soft flesh was all too much too quickly. Without warning, an orgasm ripped through you, sending you shuddering and near screaming, throwing your arms around Dimitrescu’s head to tug her closer, not caring for the punishment of doing what you were not told. Your back arched and shaking hips tried to press closer to the desk, desperate for even the barest of friction. You had never come like that before, without even touching yourself.

“My, my, pet.” Dimitrescu pulled her head up, as your hands immediately snapped back. “And I didn’t even touch you yet. If you are to act like this every time I need your services, we may need to change something.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” you panted, feeling sweat dampen the hair at the base of your neck.

Dimitrescu gave you an amused look, reaching to clean the few buds of blood that welled from her bite with the swipe of a thumb. She licked the thumb and smiled.

“Maybe I have been a less gracious host,” she offered, arching an eyebrow. “Now that I have tasted your virgin blood, I see no reason to refrain you from feeling true pleasure. Especially if it is to come from me.”

Your wound pulsed with a dull ache but the very muscles in your stomach contracted into a tight mess as Dimitrescu, hands on your thighs, slid you closer to the edge. She leaned in between your legs, nosing your inner thigh, licking the trembling flesh.

“Oh, kitten,” she sighed. “If only you could understand just how you smell to me.”

You cried out as her long, wide tongue licked you from opening to clit. She let it swirl around your clit longer, suckling the sensitive bud as you buckled beneath her, hands rushing to grab the edge of the table but finding your fingers deftly flicked back.

“Lie down,” ordered Dimitrescu.

You obeyed, staring at the plush ceiling with its ornate engravings above you.

Dimitrescu licked you again, pressed a kiss against your venus mound. “How delectable,” she cooed, and you felt the faint brush of air as she spoke against your sensitive core. “Your blood and now this. My sweet thing, you are going to be mine forever.”

She thrust her tongue inside you. The feeling was so much, so filling and unlike your familiar fingers, that you let out a scream, arching your back against the wood. She did it again, sending a fire through you, in and out until you knew that nothing would ever sate you as her mouth could. You were crying out with every thrust, hands balling up and digging against your shut eyes. Every brush of her tongue inside was like a new explosion of fireworks. You burned and burned and an orgasm came without warning. Another scream was forced from you, this time loud enough that you knew it could be heard from outside the room, but you didn’t care. You almost wished somebody could walk in, to see you splayed like that for her, owned completely and entirely, keening under every movement. You were a virgin no longer, you were taken by her, belonged to her.

You knew, in that moment, that you would never act to change that.

Dimitrescu kept a firm hand over your hips, holding you down, but her tongue did not cease its insistent probing. If anything, even as your thighs shuddered around her, she sped up, curled the tongue in deeper. And then — no, you weren’t imagining it, her tongue _grew in size_ inside you. A choked gasp left you as the tongue swelled, becoming so big it pressed against all your walls, still prodding and pushing against you without end. A third orgasm was building. Saliva was dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. You did not try and quieten yourself, you knew you couldn’t. All you could feel was her tongue, so heavy and unrelenting, sending every nerve into overdrive.

You came with a wail, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. Not from pain, but from the overstimulation. You were begging under your breath, begging for more, for the feeling never to end, to give and give and give.

Dimitrescu slowed and pulled out, giving your clit a hard lick.

“ _Well_ , kitten.”

Your chest was heaving. Swallowing down a needy whine, you pushed yourself onto your elbows, heart banging against your rib cage as you watched Dimitrescu run her tongue over her lips. It was about three times larger than before, dark in colour, and in front of your eyes, shrunk to its previous size. Your pussy throbbed looking at her. You could see your slick glisten around her mouth.

“Did — did you enjoy me, my lady?” you forced out.

“I did, pet. You’ve been very good.” Dimitrescu wiped her face with the same silk handkerchief she wiped yours, and stood. “But this night is not over yet.”

Deftly, her fingers removed her garter and panties, until she stood only in white high thighs, matching your own. You could not help looking at her body, eyes travelling down to the hairs above her sex that you craved to run your fingers through.

Letting her lingerie lie together with both her and your own discarded clothes, she picked you up, making you feel lighter than a feather, and made her way out of the room. The corridor was far colder, without the clutter of your breath to steam it, and you felt your flesh cover in goosebumps, and your nipples stand out. You had one arm over her shoulder, and her breasts pressed temptingly against your torso.

Your fucked, hazy brain decided to ignore consequence for the moment and, wetting your lips, you began pressing kisses over her breasts. Dimitrescu laughed, and you felt the rumble against your mouth as she did, but she did not drop you, or say a word, so you took upon the chore more diligently, hand kneading the breast your mouth could not. Finally, after what felt like a thousand fantasies, you lifted her breast and took her dark nipple in your mouth.

A deep, fully body moan went through you. You sucked on the large nipple with determination, swirling your tongue over the nub, switching between suckling and licking. You let go of it with a loud pop of your lips, thumb rubbing across the other one, blowing lightly on the saliva-wet skin. This, you felt, was why you were born.

You entirely missed where she was taking you, loudly suckling on the nipple until suddenly Dimitrescu stopped and her arms changed their position around you. Lifting your head with a gasp for air, you found yourself in a large chamber, with similar designs and decorations as the previous, but with a clear, definite change — a bed stood in the room.

Dimitrescu carried you over the bed and let you drop upon it. It was huge, larger than any bed you knew could exist. The mattress was a tad firmer than you had expected, but the covers were of a rich velvet embellished with golden thread. It was beautiful. You wondered how your red, bruised and fucked self looked to her now.

Flicking your hair from your face you watched her, breathing from your mouth. “What would you next have me do, your ladyship?” What a dog.

“So formal,” chuckled Dimitrescu, tapping a finger against her chin. “You really are a dear. I could just look at you like this, taken, marked by me. You really have been doing well.”

That made your limbs work again and, desperate to please, you made yourself sit upon your knees, still below her navel. You wanted to touch her again, to taste her. If she had asked, you would have worn a collar for her.

But Dimitrescu tutted and wagged her finger. “But,” she said, “you began touching me when I did not ask, pet. That is not allowed, do you not remember? I shall have to deal out some punishment for you.”

You nodded, empty pussy hoping that punishment would mean another rough fuck.

“Get back on that bed, near the pillows.”

Dimitrescu tied your hands to the intricate headboard with a thick wad of rope. The knot was pulled on tightly, enough to make you wince, but your body lay further down the bed, enough that your arms, which were tied wide apart, would lay in a relaxed state. As if in prelude to her punishment, Dimitrescu leaned close to let her breast brush against your cheek, erect nipple at your chin.

But you were a good girl waiting for her due. You took in her body, but did not try and taste.

“Excellent,” said Dimitrescu, settling on the bed and straddling your thighs. You could feel her wet pubic hair against your skin. “Now, pet, you must remember that you are to do only that which I explicitly ask you. Did I ask you to touch my breasts before?”

“No, my lady.”

She struck you across the cheek. The sudden slap rang out in the room and you gasped.

“Then why did you do it?”

You felt blood rush up your neck and onto your cheeks. You could not believe how turned on you were from that slap alone.

“I —” you fumbled. “I wished to please you.”

Another slap, against your other cheek. Your eyes rolled momentarily to the back of your head.

“Incorrect, kitten,” purred Dimitrescu. “You did it because you’re a bad girl. Repeat it.”

“I’m a bad girl, Lady Dimitrescu,” you gasped.

“And what happens to bad girls?”

“Bad girls get punished.” You looked at her, chest heaving. “Punish me, my lady. Punish me for being bad.”

“Good. Very, very good.”

To your disappointment, she then swung her leg across and stood. You followed her as she came up to a small table where what looked like a bottle of champagne stood in a bucket of ice, crystal glasses standing by. Dimitrescu picked up the bottle with a hand, seemingly reading its label, before placing it down and taking the bucket instead. She sat down by you, delicately plucked a cube of ice, and ran it up your stomach.

The flash of cold sent a shiver down your spine and you whimpered, your hot body sending droplets sliding down the curve of your ribs. A second cube, pressed down with a second finger, ran by its side between your breasts, over the bruising bite. The watery trails continued in circular patterns, never touching your aching nipples, until the near melted blocks were placed in the little dip at your collarbones, where they trickled tantalisingly down.

She took another cube and instead drew it below to your sex, going over your curves and just touching upon your labia.

You gave a little whine.

Looking only at your throbbing cunt, Dimitrescu brought out another cube.

“I should be to blame, of course,” she said suddenly. “I was the one who taught my daughters to play with their food. They take it a bit far sometimes, admittedly, but I cannot deny the pleasure this has brought me.”

With two fingers, she parted your lips and pressed an ice cube directly on your clit.

“Hush, dear,” she crooned, dipping it lower, water mingling with your slick. “You must take the punishment like a big girl. I am not angry, not yet. I don’t like to be angry, but some fools quite force my hand.”

Another ice cube.

“This manor is old, and people get a bit too curious. None of their business, what happens here, but alas I cannot stop curiosity, can I?” She chuckled. “I couldn’t stop yours. Touching yourself at night to my name, you dirty girl. I have known from the first night.”

You felt yourself flush, trying to ignore the ache in your shoulders as well as the ache at the bottom of your stomach. You had unconsciously began biting on the inside of your cheek.

A few more ice cubes were places on your stomach, in the valley between your breasts, but you began to feel more finger than ice on your pussy, Dimitrescu’s thick digits running themselves across your opening. She did so leisurely, as if it was no big deal at all, and slipped two fingers in.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of fullness, but you were already so wet that they went in easily, and it took what remained of your sanity not to roll your hips to feel more. But Dimitrescu, curling the fingers slightly, then pulled out.

“Pet,” she said. “Look at me.”

You raised your aching neck and watched as Dimitrescu’s fingers, no different to her tongue before, elongated in front of your very eyes. She did it with a smile that bared her teeth, sharp and big. She looked hungry and you were desperate to be her meal.

The fingers were pushed back into you, slowly, and you could tell the difference then, as your back arched to accommodate. You didn’t understand it, and you didn’t give a damn. All you wanted was for her hands to start moving.

But the fingers stayed still, shifting slightly inside you, and you were close to asking for a second dose of punishment when a third finger pushed in. You cried out in pleasure. She was so _big_ inside you.

Slowly, the fingers began to pull out before being thrust back so sharply your head fell back. The time for foreplay was over. Dimitrescu fucked you roughly with her hand, leaning heavily over you, her size making a dip in the mattress. The wet sound of flesh against flesh was only just masked by your own cries and moans. Every thrust hit you in such a spot that sent you seeing stars. There was drool in the corners of your mouth. You felt your breasts shake with every ram of the fingers.

Dimitrescu noticed the last detail herself, for her tongue, longer again, began flicking at a stiff nipple. There was a rough quality to her tongue, but it made you feel more and you mewled as the tip curled around your nipple and gave a sharp tug.

You lost count of the orgasms that tore through you. With every curl of her fingers inside you, the mouth sucking you nipples, and the last droplets of water trickling off your body, your senses had hit a wall of complete pleasure. You could not imagine anything else, you wanted nothing more than to lay with your legs spread for her, more and more red marks littering your skin. You definitely registered an orgasm when Dimitrescu bit your nipple and began sucking blood. It was a feeling unlike any other. You wanted more.

For only the briefest of moments, Dimitrescu paused, to change her position so that she sat to your side. Then her fingers were again pounding into you, but now her breast was in front of your mouth.

“Go on, pet,” she encouraged.

You needed no second request, hungrily lapping at her nipple. You could have suckled on it forever, smelling her scent around you, nose pressed firmly against the soft flesh. Your curled your tongue around the nub, tugged on it with your teeth, loudly pulling away only to latch onto it again.

Your arms lost feeling. Dimitrescu started rubbing the pad of her thumb against your clit as she fingered you and you were coming over and over, throat too used to scream anymore. Every muscle in your body was electrified.

“Sweet thing,” you heard Dimitrescu whisper in your ear as you realised your cunt was uncomfortably empty and that a wet hand was untying the rope around your wrists. “You’ve been so very good. So very good.”

Dimitrescu rubbed at the red marks on your wrists, her cool hands relieving them of the ache. You were trying to catch your breath, the smell of sex heavy in the room.

“Was I —” Your voice faltered. “Did I take the punishment well?”

“Very well, dear.” Dimitrescu smiled at you, brushing damp hair off your cheek. “So good, in fact, you deserve a reward, I think.” She chuckled, releasing your wrists. “Oh, how you look at me. I shall be keeping you for a very long time. Come, roll over.”

She moved away as you rolled onto your stomach, taking the pillow offered and propping it under your stomach. The ache in your muscles was beginning to sing its song but your brain silenced it instantly as the creak of the bed told you that Dimitrescu had climbed behind you, her hands resting on your hips.

“So pretty,” she said, hands running over your waist and the slope of your ass. “Raise yourself up a bit — that’s right. And show yourself to me.”

Face against a pillow, you reached backwards and parted your asscheeks for her. You could only guess how wet and swollen your cunt must have looked.

Dimitrescu let out a deep hum that vibrated from deep within her throat. “And now, darling,” she murmured. “Don’t look back. I want to offer you something really special. Something I don’t give to many of my visitors.”

You felt something warm slide up both your legs.

“The real me, darling. All my flesh to your flesh.”

The same warmth slid up your chest, wrapped itself around your breast. You gasped as you felt something brush against your cheek. You couldn’t really tell what it was, but it was flesh and, most curiously, it was far warmer than Dimitrescu’s body had ever been. You allowed the tentacle to nudge your chin and willingly opened your mouth.

Behind you, Dimitrescu shuddered. “Oh!” she gasped. “I feel you so much better like this. You’re so very warm, pet. So warm, so wet.”

You began bobbing your head as you took in the tentacle. It tasted slightly salty, almost reminiscent of sweat, and pulsated against your tongue. Most importantly, it made Dimitrescu make the most incredible moans, and when you felt the same tentacle push against your opening, you let a sigh come from deep within your throat.

The tentacles were different to her tongue, or fingers, but filled you in just as tightly and pushed against your walls as they built up a fast paced rhythm. Another slid to rub against your clit, while several were playing with your nipples. Their pathways along your skin were lit up with their warmth.

It did not take you long to come, tentacle falling out of your mouth as you buried your head into the pillow with a muffled cry, cunt tightening through the wave. With your hips still pushing into the thrusts, to your surprise you heard Dimitrescu stutter behind you, a half choked cry playing behind your ear. She pushed into you a few more times, hard, before spilling inside you with a loud moan. You were not sure exactly what it was, but it was hot, and you felt it spill out and drip obscenely down the inside of your legs.

“Oh, dear,” came her flustered voice to your hazy ears. “I have not felt so in quite a long time.”

The tentacles pulled out of you with a wet sound, leaving your body which fell tiredly into the bed. You wanted to sleep, idly licking a salty corner of your mouth, but shivered with delight as a cool hand, five fingered, gently kneaded your shoulder and brushed the wet hair off your neck.

“Rest now, darling,” Dimitrescu whispered breathlessly by your ear. “We have much more to come.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have had kinks awoken within me that I never even knew existed thanks to this gigantic milf


End file.
